You've Got to be 'Kid'ding
by Miss Charz
Summary: What happens when Bex and Grant die suddenly, leaving the godparents of their daughter to raise her? Oh, and it doesn't help that they hate each other. Minor swearing.
1. No Freaking Way

**Gah, Impulsive one-shot. Maybe two-shot, or three-shot. Who knows?**

**DISCLAIMER:: *sigh* don't you guys get sick of these? Except when people make them funny… {Cue the monotonous tone} **_**I don't own Gallagher Girls etc etc.**_

"No. Freaking. Way." You're pretty sure the lawyer sitting in front of you is high on drugs or something. In fact, you're certain he should be carted off to a mental institute pronto.

He sighs, runs a hand through his sparse, balding hair and leans back in his chair. "I'm afraid so, Ms Morgan. You see, after your friends' untimely deaths, their child, uhh…" you see him ruffle through a bunch of papers, and decide to jog his memory.

"Bianca?"

"Uhh, yes, Bianca Jean Newman, daughter of Rebecca Newman, nee Baxter, and Grant Newman, is left orphaned. And they've put you down as her legal custodian."

You have an overwhelming urge to pull the man up by his pathetic amount of hair and force him to change the will. Honestly, you loved Bex and all, but raising her child – let alone _a_ child – is definitely _not _on your life agenda.

So, you say back, as calm as you can be, "So, what? You expect me, a single, working woman, to raise a four-year-old girl who's just lost her parents all by myself?" But, by now, as much as you're trying to control your temper, you're practically _fuming_.

The balding man – _Henry_, or something – shakes his head and smiles grimly. "No, not by yourself."

As if on cue, the door to the cluttered, cramped office opens and in walks your arch-enemy. Okay, maybe not your _arch-enemy, _but someone you completely and utterly _despise_.

"Absolutely _not_." You're seriously hoping this is all a huge joke.

Henry clears his throat. "Actually, there's someone else listed on the will. And, seeing as you were both close with the Newman's, and that you are, in fact, little Miss Bianca Newman's _godparents_, it seems reasonable to say that you and Mr Goode, here, are her new custodians."

Feeling ready to scream, your fingers twitch towards the gun holstered on your thigh, underneath the only professional, and _clean, _pencil-skirt hanging in your closet.

Goode takes a seat in the chair next to yours and you both shoot each other dirty looks. You can't stand each other, especially since he embarrassed you in front of your whole co-workers.

Perhaps it would be rude if you didn't acknowledge him. Ah, stuff being rude.

But when he says, "Morgan," curtly, you have no other choice than to reply, equally as brusquely, "Goode."

Perhaps Henry doesn't notice the forced exchange, but if he does, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he lifts up a thick wad of papers and hands them to you. You glance down and see your best friend's signature at the base of the top sheet, alongside her husband's, and your breath catches a little. Tears begin to sting your eyes as you can't help but remember how close the two of you were.

You look back up at Henry and ask, trying to keep your voice steady, "And what happens if we," you gesture between yourself and Goode, "don't agree to this?"

"Then little Bianca goes into and orphanage, or perhaps foster care, _if _she's lucky enough to get that." 

You just know you can't do that to the gorgeous, dark-eyed girl you last saw looking lost at her parents' funeral. You just can't.

Looking over at Goode, you see his expression is grim. _No wonder, _his_ best friend just died, too_, you remind yourself.

He notices you looking, but his expression doesn't change.

For some reason, you blurt to Henry, "Can I see her? Can I see Bianca?"

Henry frowns for a moment before making a brief phone call. "Uhh, of course. We can go over straight away."

And within ten minutes, the three of you are bundled into the sleek company car, headed down a main highway. For some reason, Goode has decided to join you in the back seat instead of taking the front seat.

He's looking intently at you, and you feel uncomfortable under his gaze.

Finally, you snap. You can't take it any more. "Do you need something, Goode?"

And with your words, he visibly stiffens. "No. Just trying to figure out why there's a pile of dog poo on your head."

You know he's referring to the hurried bun you did up in the taxi, whilst clutching a piece of toast between your teeth, this morning.

You sniff indignantly and turn away from him to watch the surroundings. It's a dank place. No footpaths, graffiti covering every surface possible, stray dogs wandering the place. Wondering how on earth an orphanage would be _allowed _to run in a place like this, you feel the engine being cut.

Henry's expression of distaste is reasonable, considering the building standing before him. It's gloomy and just generally depressing.

And Bianca's staying here. I repress a shudder at what she's experiencing.

You all walk towards the place and meet up with a lady named Cheryl.

"Oi, you li'l shits, clean up that muck an' then go hassle the pigs next door," she yells at three timid-looking children, whilst snapping her gum loudly.

Another shudder almost escapes you.

You let Henry talk to the woman because, to be honest, you're scared of catching rabies from her.

As soon as Henry negotiates his way inside, you notice he's shaking slightly by the way his battered briefcase continues to wobble.

Once the three of you are inside, you lead the way upstairs to where the bedrooms are. In the furthermost dorm, you find a small, mocha-skinned girl, crouched in a corner, tears streaking her face. A feeling of immense pity overcomes you as you creep tenderly towards Bianca, crouching a little.

"Bianca?" you call gently, not wanting to startle her.

And your heart fills with warmth as she raises her face even more and replies with a faint, scared, "Auntie Cam?"

Although you're not technically her Aunt, she's called you that ever since she first learnt to talk. As much as you shouldn't laugh, you can't help but giggle as she turns to Goode and says, "Uncle Zach?"

Why's that funny? You ask. Well, because she can't pronounce 'Zach' correctly, it comes out as more of an 'Uncle Yuck'.

He gives you a death stare which you ignore, and you pick up the trembling four-year-old and hold her close.

"It's okay, Bee, we'll get you out of here," you reassure her, once again ignoring Goode's startled look.

She giggles adorably at the use of her favourite nickname and wraps her little arms around your neck.

"Are Mommy and Daddy coming home soon?"

You freeze, and then look at Goode for help. He looks as lost as you feel.

"Umm… well, you see, Hon, they've gone away for quite a while." 

More like, _forever, _

Bianca deflates slightly, but then brightens up. "So does that mean I'm staying with yooou guys?"

You pause for a moment, but then nod slowly, giving her a kind smile. How could you resist those adorable eyes, anyway?

"Well, at least, you'll be staying with _me_," you correct her.

But you receive a huge surprise as you hear Goode interject, "And me."

Whirling around to look at him, your eyebrows shoot up. "And you?" 

"And me."

Completely puzzled, you allow Goode to take Bianca's purple suitcase from your hands, and follow Henry back down the stairs.

When you're safely buckled inside the car again, Bianca between you and Goode, you let Henry fill out the paperwork with Cheryl, who looks like she'd rather be whipping some geese.

You watch as Bianca and Goode have thumb wars (hey, she's an intelligent kid), him often letting her win on purpose. It's weird how well they get along, but cute at the same time. You mentally smack yourself for relating Goode to the word 'cute'.

Henry drives you back to the law firm building and you all get out. You realise you didn't bring your car because it was still being repaired and that you'll probably have to catch a taxi home.

Just as you pull out your phone to call one, Goode's hand catches your wrist. You look up into his eyes, still puzzled.

"I'll drive you home. Besides, we need to work out whose house we'll stay at."

Nodding, you return your phone to your pocket and agree to meet up with Henry soon to finalise all the paperwork. Obviously, he made you and Goode sign things before you take her home, but you're still dreading the mountains yet to come.

As you notice Bianca has fallen asleep in Goode's arms, you offer to drive, and he hands you the keys hesitantly, as if you'll hurt the metal thing.

Rolling your eyes, you climb into his car and wait for him and Bianca to click in their seatbelts. Once you're all safely in, you pull out of the car park and onto a main road.

"Your place or mine?" jokes Goode.

Yet again, you roll your eyes. "Mine. And don't make innuendos about this."

"Why yours? Mine's closer," he complains.

You swivel around to face him and reply, "Because mine's better to raise a child in. At least, for now."

Giving a sigh, he clearly decides not to argue with you and remains quiet.

For some unfathomable reason, you're feeling chatty. "So, how did we get roped into this, again? I mean, I don't remember signing any papers!"

Goode smirks. "No doubt they knew we'd say no and they forged our signatures. After all, they're spies. I thought you knew that, Morgan."

Frowning, you focus on the road, trying to figure out why their family wasn't asked. But then you realise that there's no family to speak of. Both of their parents are dead, along with any other family. Perhaps you ought to have seen this coming.

After all, you're in the espionage business, assassinations are actually quite common.

Once you reach your apartment, you park the car and lead the other two up to your place. Jiggling the key the way it needs to be, you let yourself, Goode and a now-awake Bianca into the apartment.

You glance over at Goode, who's smirking, obviously remembering the last time he was in your apartment. You resist the urge to slap him.

Just as you turn the kettle on, you hear a _thump _come from your bedroom, soon followed by the wails of a four-year-old girl.

You wonder what you've got yourself into.

**Hmm, completely off the top of my head. It just popped in there the other night and wouldn't go away! Anyway, I hope you like it **** and please please please review…**

**Please?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Haha, I kind of like this story, so I'm going to continue, and then finish it when it feels right. **

**Uhhm, how do you all like the second-person point of view? Is it annoying? Good? Review and tell me **

**Okay, on with the story.**

The first thing that hits you as you unlock the door to your apartment is the smell of something _delicious _cooking. Confused, you close the door quietly and peer around corners, trying to figure out where the smell is originating from.

Obviously it's the kitchen, but who cooks that well that you know? Certainly not your mother.

And then you realise that you've got Goode staying at your place while all the 'you-best-friend-just-died-and-left-you-with-her-child' mess is dealt with.

You can't help but snigger at how motherly, and _housewife-_ish he looks in an apron. Let alone your only, flowery apron.

"I didn't know you could cook," you remark, but, predictably, Goode isn't even startled.

He just raises his eyebrows and continues stirring at the pot on the stove. "Actually, there are lots of things you don't know about me."

"And whose fault is that?"

He ignores you. "Actually, it's not that hard when you're following a recipe."

You snort. "_You _can _read_?"

Goode frowns at you, and you feel incredibly smug for annoying him. But perhaps it isn't such a wise idea, seeing as he'll probably slip some poison into your gravy later on.

"Where's Bianca?" You peer around the kitchen, seeing no sign of any adorable little girls anywhere.

Shrugging, Goode replies, "I dropped her off at McHenry's."

Your heart-rate quickens. "You left _a child _with _Macey McHenry_?"

Bemused expression on his face, he nods. You're feeling a little light-headed. "You idiot!"

You grab your keys and run, desperately, to the car. You're certain you're going over the speed limit, but it doesn't really matter right now.

Coming to a squealing stop in Macey's driveway, you get out of the car, slam the door and sprint up to the front door, praying she doesn't have Bianca hanging by her toes from the ceiling.

Knocking frantically, you're half-tempted to break down the door just to get inside faster.

Once the door finally _does _open, you scurry inside past Macey's cleaner, checking all the rooms for any indication of child torture.

As you reach the lounge room, you hear shrieks coming from within. Your heart is beating _fat _too fast by now, and it goes into overdrive as you push open the door and bear witness to a wrestling match between a twenty-five-year-old spy and the young daughter of the deceased Rebecca Baxter.

You rush forwards and try to pry the two apart, but Bianca won't release her iron grip on Macey's hair. You try to block out the angry screams and angry swear words streaming from the elder one's mouth.

One bucket of water, two cleaners' help, a referee's whistle, and fifteen minutes later, the three of you lay, panting, on the floor.

Sure, you're a spy and you're fit, but you honestly can't believe how strong the two others are.

"Macey McHenry!" you scold. "What the _hell _was that about?"

Macey scowls at Bianca, who pokes her tongue back, and then says, "Jeez, you sound like a mom."

After a death-stare from you, she adds, "That _monster_," referring to Bianca, "stole my chocolates and ate them all."

You try and keep your cool, but you haven't had the best week. Grabbing Bianca's hand, rolling your eyes, you lead her out the front door and into the safety of the car.

Behind you, you hear Macey yell, "And stay away!"

Once the house is out of sight, you turn to Bianca, who's giving you the puppy-dog eyes. "Bianca! You don't take things that don't belong to you!"

"Why?" she asks innocently. "You do."

And then you're stumped. You try to speak, but fail dismally.

When you do regain speech, you stutter out, "But that's different."

"Why?"

"Because it's necessary for my work."

"Why?"

"Uhh, because otherwise I wouldn't be able to get my job done."

"Why?"

You take a deep breath, and tighten your grip on the steering wheel.

"Just because, Bee, okay?"

"Why?"

By the time you return home, you're about ready to tape the little girl's mouth shut.

Even as the two of you enter the apartment, she's still asking "Why?" to every single thing you answer.

Zach gives you a small smirk, which is wiped off his face as Bianca clasps onto his leg, refusing to let go.

You return the smirk, bearing in mind how wonderful karma can be.

Seeing as there's only one bedroom, Goode has to sleep on the couch. Although, you'd happily switch with him, seeing as Bianca's makeshift bed is located in your own room.

The three of you brush your teeth together, like a family. And you have to repress the urge to throw up at the thought of having a family with Goode.

You laugh as you see Goode trying to help Bianca with her own toothbrush. He's trying to be patient, though you think when she bites him that he can't take any more.

Taking over from him, you realise the task isn't as easy as you assumed. When Bianca spits out toothpaste onto your new socks, you decide to admit defeat.

Surprisingly, she gets into bed quickly enough and you breathe a sigh of relief. You don't think you can take much more battling.

Sure, the girl has just lost her parents, but that's no reason to be a pain in the arse.

What makes you sad, more than anything, is the fact that she reminds you so much of Bex, herself. She was stubborn, strong and generally an amazing soul. Clearly the genes have been passed on.

Once you're sure Bianca is fast asleep, you reach for the file Henry gave you that morning.

He said something about a letter from Bex, which accompanies all the paperwork and forms.

You take it gingerly in your hands, and, due to your amazing spy nose, you notice it smells like her.

Tears form in your eyes as you cautiously unfold the letter, half-expecting to see some sort of stink bomb or awful photo of you.

But all that's there is her writing.

_Hey Cam,_

_If you're reading this, I'm probably dead. Wait, I _am _dead. Unless that douche Henry stuffed up and gave you this too early. I never really liked him, you know. But he's Grant's Dad's friend's niece's brother or something, so of course we _had _to get him to do our wills._

_Anyway, isn't it kind of creepy that you'll read this once I'm gone? It'll be like I'm haunting you. Oooh. _

_Ah, Cammie. You probably have been wondering why I stuck you with Zachary Goode. Well, my answer is that there's something about you two. Something I can't quite put my finger on. You two just seem like you are made for each other. Yeah, scoff all you like Camster, it's true. _

_So, try not to kill Zachary. Or my daughter. _

_Take care of my Bee; she's really my whole life. And remember, her weakness is her hair, and the fact that she adores little shortbread biscuits. _

_So, go on, go play hairdressers or something with her, and give her all my love._

_Tell her Mommy loves her, and that she'll see her again, one day._

_Lots of love,_

_Your best friend,_

_Bex_

_P.S. Grant says that Zachary's letter contains a credit card. The password's in there, too. The money should help with bringing up Bianca._

_P.P.S. Grant also says that if you two don't get together sometime soon, he'll come back from the dead and force you two into a room. _

_-B._

You smile at your best friend's familiar handwriting, and then look over at her daughter, peacefully sleeping on the mattress on the floor.

Maybe, just _maybe_, things will be okay.

**Okay, I know I really should be working on my other story... but to tell you the truth, I'm really stuck on it right now...**

***Sigh* I hope you liked this chapter! R&R please!**


	3. The Game

**OKayy, third chapter!**

Thankyou so much to all who have reviewed!

"Is that all?" Goode asks, placing down his pen and sitting back in his chair with a sigh.

You just shake your head, annoyed, and shove two more sheets towards him.

"This is worse than being a celebrity!" he exclaims.

You simply raise an eyebrow. "Yeah, something you'll never know. Who would want _your _signature, anyway?"

He laughs at you. "Well, I'm not sure, but lots of people want my number."

Rolling your eyes, you continue to read the file in front of you, but not being able to focus completely. So, instead of giving yourself a headache, you say to Goode, "Why don't we finish all this another night? It's ten forty-eight, and I need something to drink."

Nodding, he shoves all the pieces of paper into one, messy pile and balances the pens on top. Then he turns to you, just as you give a huge yawn. "Tired?" he asks.

With a sigh, you nod, feeling something tugging at your pyjama pants – or rather, _someone_. Glancing down, your own, blue eyes meet the chocolate brown eyes of Bianca.

"What's wrong, Bee?" you ask her, sweetly.

"I can't sleeeep," she exclaims, climbing up onto your lap.

You stroke her hair as she plays with the golden necklace your dad gave you when you were six. "Why's that? Are we being too loud?"

Shaking her head, she wraps her thin arms around your neck and says, "I want my Mommy."

Pretty much the one thing you can't give her, she wants. But people always want what they can't have.

Trying to keep away from the topic of her parents, you reply, "Why don't we play a game? Perhaps you're not tired enough to sleep." 

She nods and slides off your lap. "What about hide and seek?"

Zach coughs mockingly, but you shoot him a vicious look to silence him.

"Sure. I'll count first, okay?"

"Okay," she giggles, before skipping off to hide somewhere.

You turn back to Goode and tell him, "Don't think you're not playing, too."

He groans and slumps his head onto the table. You just laugh meanly, and then sit on the couch where you cover your eyes with your hands. "One! Two! Three!" you count loudly, "Four! Five! Six!"

Once you reach twenty-five, you exclaim, "Coming, ready or not!"

Hearing giggling from the bathroom, you know where the younger of the two hiders is, but you don't want her to be dismayed, so you pretend like you don't know where she is.

You're betting Goode has picked somewhere stupidly easy, simply because he really doesn't want to play.

Upon checking the cupboard, you find Goode leaning against the wall, yawning.

"Good, you found me. Now I'm going to bed," he huffs, pushing past you.

But you catch his arm before he can scurry off, and give him a slight smirk. "Oh, no. You're going to help me find Bianca now."

He lets out a sigh of annoyance and shakes his arm out of my grip. "Fine…" 

Pretending to look everywhere but the bathroom, you say out loud things like, "Hmmm… I _wonder _where little Bianca has gone!"

Still hearing giggles, you drag Goode behind you (he's half-asleep), back to the kitchen one more time to look through the cupboards.

"Seriously, we know where she is, so why don't we just find her?" he asks, exasperated and annoyed.

I frown at him. "Do you _want _her to cry?" 

Alarmed, he shakes his head and holds his hands up in surrender.

After another ten minutes of fake-looking, you decide to submit to Goode's wishes and you both walk into the bathroom.

Strangely, even though the both of you search everywhere – and the small fact that you're both _spies _– Bianca is nowhere in the bathroom.

"What the _hell_?" exclaims Goode, perching on the edge of the bath. "You said she was here!"

"I thought she _was_!" you yell back.

He stands up and pushes past you, calling Bianca's name.

You curse at yourself for suggesting playing a game. Banging your head against the tiled wall, you wonder where the heck she could be.

"Okay," you say to Goode five minutes later, as the both of you stand in your bedroom, "You take the bedroom and the bathroom, again. I'll search the kitchen and the lounge room. She's bound to be here somewhere, unless, God forbid, she's gone outside."

Goode runs a hand through his hair. "I can't believe you lost her in your own home."

For good measure, you smack him. Hard. And then proceed through to the kitchen, where you're certain she isn't.

Later, as Goode and you slump onto the couch, exhausted, you're sure she's left the apartment.

But, as you're pushing your hair back off your face, you notice the small ventilation grate on the wall.

Sitting up straight, causing Goode to fall onto the floor, you hiss, "She's up there!"

"What the _hell, _Morgan?" he yells indignantly, scrambling to his feet.

But he follows where you're pointing and comprehension dawns on his face. "Finally!"

You both rush over to beneath the grate. "Get me a chair, Goode!" you order.

He salutes and says, "Yes ma'am."

Rolling your eyes, you snatch the chair away from him and clamber onto it. At a higher height, you can reach the grate, and it comes off quickly and easily. You hear that familiar giggling and you know you've found Bianca.

But it's too dark, and you know – if she's smart, which she is – she'll have hidden as far back as she can.

"Oh, Bianca," you sing, hauling yourself through the tiny space.

Your whole body finally enters the vent and you crawl on your elbows and knees, squinting in the darkness. "Bianca, come out, come out! The game's over now, Hon."

More giggling.

Gritting your teeth, you crawl further back, cursing the little girl. Cobwebs snag in your hair and the hard steel is hurting your knees, but you block it all out, determined to get Bex's orphaned daughter back into her bed.

As you come to a fork in the vent system, two small feet come into your vision.

You haul yourself forward, determined to not let her get away. Although she's younger and more agile, you catch her ankles and drag her backwards.

There's a huge, mischievous grin plastered on her grubby face. You push her ahead of you and turn back around, keen to get out of the claustrophobic space.

When the two of you are back inside your apartment, you turn to give Bianca a scolding, but she's fallen asleep.

"Like mother, like daughter," you mutter to yourself.

Goode doesn't seem to want to pick her up, so you huff and bend down to pull her into your arms.

Once she's tucked under her covers, she's snoring gently, looking innocently angelic.

"She could charm a terrorist into changing sides," remarks Goode from behind you.

Nodding in agreement, the two of you leave the room.

For some reason, you're feeling generous tonight. "You can take my bed if you want. I'll sleep out here on the couch."

Goode gives you a confused look. "Why?"

Exasperated, you reply, "Well, I'm just trying to make an effort to be nice, but if you don't want me to, I won't bother."

He shrugs. "Are you sure?"

You nod and push him towards your room. He gives you a strange smile before disappearing into your room.

Snuggling up into the blankets on the couch, you desperately try to block out the fact that they smell like him.

Mentally hitting yourself, you rub your eyes, completely worn out.

"I've really got to find a nanny."

**Hmm… I'm not so sure about this chapter…**

**I dunno? Did you like it? **

**Please review and tell me things you'd like to see in it **

**~Jen**


	4. Party

***Sigh* I'm enjoying this story far too much!**

**Okay, so Zammie moments are going to become more frequent from now on **

**Can I hear a 'Yay'?**

**No… okay, perhaps I'll just get on with writing.**

**DISCLAIMER: If you don't know that I'm not Ally Carter, then you need your eyes checked, because I think I will own the Gallagher Girls series around about the time I become Prime Minister.**

**Or President. **

**Whatever floats your boat.**

"Well, you scrub up well, Goo- I mean, Zach."

He just smirks at you, offers his arm and replies, "Don't I always?"

You take his arm nervously, and you both walk into Macey's 'entertaining room' together. There are already small bunches of people chattering away to each other, but you still spot Macey easily.

She looks stunning is her black, sequined dress, but, then again, when does Macey McHenry _not_ look stunning?

Noticing your arrival, she tears herself and Preston away from a conversation with a snobby-looking lady.

"Cammie, you're here!" she cries, enveloping you in a tight hug. "How are things going?" she whispers in your ear, and you know she doesn't mean life in general, she means _things with Zach_.

"Normal. Fine," you reply, pulling back.

You're glad to see Preston has discarded his Spiderman watch for the occasion. "How are you Preston?"

He smiles and hugs you, too.

It's pretty much like a hug-fest.

"I'm good. Sorry about your friends; they were good people," he says sympathetically.

Looking downwards, you smile, trying to keep the tears at bay.

You're surprised when you feel a warm hand slip into your own. Zach gives you a comforting smile and squeezes your hand.

Macey's eyes widen for a brief second at the sight in front of her. She smiles at the two of you before pulling Preston away to greet more guests.

"Thanks," you tell Zach, once they're out of earshot.

"No problem."

You notice that he hasn't let go of your hand, and you blush a little.

"Let's get a drink," you say, wanting to get some sort of conversation going.

He nods and the both of you head over to the drinks table, where you, literally, run into Liz.

"Oopsie daisies, I'm so sorry, Cam!" she cries out, as juice runs down your shirt.

She shoves you a bunch of napkins, with which you dab at the remaining apple juice.

"Hang on, apple juice, Liz?"

Blushing, she turns to Jonas, who gives her a smile and a nod. "I'm pregnant!"

After much squealing and 'Congratulations', you notice Liz is beginning to cry. Zach looks at Jonas, alarmed, before scurrying off in the opposite direction. Jonas says something about seeing someone from work, and also hurries off.

"Aw, Liz, it's okay…" you console, pulling her into a hug.

"I ju-just wish B-B-Bex were h-here," she sobs into your shoulder, as you pat her back.

"But you know what, Lizzie? She is. She'll always be with us in spirit."

Liz sobs even harder at your words, and her grip is almost suffocating you, but you don't mind. She's your sister. Maybe not by blood, but you will always be there for her, even if Bex - the fourth part of your sisterhood - can't.

You have to find her a seat, on which you both sit down. Liz's tears have subsided, and she's now clutching a glass of water.

"I think it's the hormones," she jokes, smiling through her tears.

You smile sadly back at her. "Or maybe you, like the rest of us, loved Bex."

With more apologies about ruining your shirt, Liz walks off to find Jonas, leaving you alone, sipping at your drink.

"Cameron!" a snooty voice calls, and you discover that Jeannie Perch has decided to talk to you. "How are you?"

You nod. "Just fine, thanks. And you?"

"Oh, perfectly wonderful. I just got back from a five week trip with my husband, actually. It was simply _divine_!"

"That's nice…"

She turns her nose up, and smooths back her hair. "Are you married, yet?"

"Oh, no…"

"Engaged?"

"Nope."

"Boyfriend?"

Before you can reply, an arm slips around your waist, and someone says, "Yep, me."

Jeannie's eyebrows raise and she says, "Oh, hello Zachary."

Before she can ask much more, one of her just-as-snobby friends calls her away, leaving you feeling relieved.

"Is Liz alright?" asks Zach quietly.

You turn to face him, and reply, "Yeah, no thanks to you."

"What? I don't know how to deal with sobbing women."

"Yet you can take on an orphaned, four – almost five – year old girl?"

He grins sheepishly, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Well, at least Bianca… I—"

You raise your eyebrows expectantly at him. "What? At least Bianca… what?"

"Well- I don't know, okay!"

"The infamous Zachary Goode, _doesn't know_? That's something you don't see every day. Besides, we've just had to deal with the death of Bex and Grant. How do you think she's going to feel?"

He shrugs, defeated.

When a slender, but firm, hand grasps your forearm, you turn and see the ecstatic face of Macey McHenry smiling at you. "I need to tell you something, Cam!"

Without letting you reply, she drags you out into the deserted corridor and practically shrieks, "Preston proposed!"

Your mouth falls open at the sight of the enormous, sparkling rock which graces her finger. "My _God_, where did he get the money to buy _that_?" you ask incredulously.

"What, no '_I'm so happy for you, Macey'_?" she retorts, still grinning.

So you wrap your arms around her thin frame, and give out – what feels like – the fiftieth hug for the night. "Congratulations! You two are perfect. Once you turn a blind eye to the Spiderman watch, of course."

That earns you a playful slap from your friend. "Hey, I'll have you know that he is a very grown-up man."

And that's when the two of you hear an outburst of giggling coming from the room. You turn your heads and see Preston tickling a young, sandy-haired boy.

Raising your eyebrow, you turn back to Macey, who says, "Don't. Say. A. Word."

You just raise your hands and shake your head, trying not to laugh. "Wasn't going to."

She squeezes your hand, before running off towards Preston and kissing him in front of everyone.

You're glad that your friends are happy. You really are. But, you can't help but feel a little – okay _a lot _– jealous at their happiness.

Once you return to the party, you bump into Zach, who's looking questioning.

"Macey's getting married," you tell him, putting on a fake-enthusiastic smile, which he can obviously see through.

"Are you okay?"

"Um… yeah… can we go home, now? I'm not feeling too well."

He nods and leads the way back to the car. On the drive home, you bite back tears. But you're not really sure why you're crying. After all, you should be super excited for your friends.

It feels like everyone's lives are going far better than your own.

_**Review? **___


	5. Ah, fighting

_**Almost near the end… *sniff sniff* (at least, I think almost the end).**_

_**Enjoy!**_

In the shower, you relax under the hot water which calms your stressed body. The smell of your frangipani shampoo lingers in the air, as does the steam.

Macey would tell you that the steam is very good for your skin.

You're in there much longer than you would usually spend, yet when Zach yells at you to get out, you ignore him and lock the door.

When you realise you're turning wrinkly, you turn off the water and wrap a towel around yourself.

Once you're changed, you make your way back out to the lounge room and slump in front of the television, feeling very flat.

As there's absolutely nothing worth watching on the television, you switch it off and lie down on the couch, eyes closed. Macey and Liz wander through your dreams, sneering at you for not having anyone to spend the rest of your life with, but then it changes, and you dream of Bex.

She smiles sadly, and you try to speak, but for some weird reason, no words come out.

Her voice is distant, "_Cammie…"_ and it's like she's talking to you from behind layers and layers of thick glass.

Then, out of nowhere, Zach's mom turns up and drags Bex away at gunpoint. You try screaming, and running towards her, but you're frozen to the spot. Your heart beats a million miles an hour, as you watch her aim the gun and fire.

Halfway between awake and asleep, you feel strong arms wrap around you, and a soothing voice says, "It's okay, it's okay, just wake up."

Struggling, you murmur undistinguishable words, trying to wake from the horrible dream. Bex is bleeding in front of you, and you can't help her.

"No… _no_…"

"It's alright, just wake up!"

The voice is still calming you, and the hands are still trying to shake you awake.

"Cammie, wake up!"

Jerking upright, you see Zach leaning over you, looking worried. "Are you okay?" he asks gently.

Nodding, you sit up, your heart beating furiously beneath your chest. "Yeah, just a bad dream," you reply, trying not to notice how close Zach's face is to yours.

"Are you sure?" he insists.

"_Yes_." You don't want Zachary Goode pitying you. You'd much rather someone's hate than their pity, so you push him away slightly and sit up even further, holding your head in your hands.

But he's not done quite yet. "Can I get you a drink, or something?"

You shake your head and he looks more concerned than ever.

"I'm _fine,_ Zach, really. Just a bad dream about Bex, and then with all that happened at Macey's I'm just not feeling well."

"Why, what happened at Macey's?"

You squirm a little as he makes himself more comfortable on the floor next to the couch. "Well… Macey got engaged and Liz is pregnant, and then that horrible lady was talking about going on a holiday with her husband… I just feel so left out. And now she'll be talking about that thing you did." It all streams out of your mouth, making no sense whatsoever.

Zach looks confused. "What did I do?"

"Pretend that you… well, you know." You don't look at him directly; instead you pretend to be interested in your nails.

He laughs at you, and then moves closer. "Well, why don't we give her something to _really _talk about?" he suggests in a low, quiet voice.

Your faces are a hair's breadth apart, but then he moves even more and closes the gap. Your lips meet in a kiss you know you shouldn't be enjoying, but are anyway.

One of his hands snakes around your waist, and the other one goes to the side of your face. You loop your own hands around his neck and deepen the kiss.

After a few blissful moments, you pull back. He has a confused look on his face. "What's wrong? Should I stop?"

You smile and shake your head, and then pull him back in again. Hardly realising, the two of you have gotten off the couch and are now moving somewhere.

Only when Zach stops, one hand on the doorknob to your bedroom, and gives you a questioning look, do you realise – really _realise _– where you are. In response to his unasked question, you nod slightly, and then pull him closer.

The door makes a gentle noise as it shuts behind the two of you.

* * *

Morning comes all too quick for your liking. Because of the little sleep you got last night – _ahem _– you're tired and cranky, and most definitely not in the mood to get up.

Slipping into your dressing gown, you walk into the lounge room where Zach is pulling on his shoes, a piece of toast in his mouth.

When he notices you standing there, incredulous expression on your face, he pauses and perches the toast on the back of the couch. "Oh, hey, Cam."

Yeah, things are _awkward._

"Where are you going?" Without meaning to be, your voice is harsh.

"Umm… Jonas needs me at work for a few days, so you'll have to pick Bianca up from her friend's place."

"You're leaving?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Again?" He flinches.

"What do you mean _again_?" he asks, trying to be innocent.

You're super angry by now. "You always do this! Whenever things get too hard, or too intimate, you leave! You did it last time, Zach, don't deny it!" The volume is increasing by now. "You just left me when I needed you most, dammit! And then you had the nerve to humiliate me in front of everyone at work, after I told you I never wanted to see you again!"

The flow of tears are beginning now, as Zach stands there, looking a little annoyed.

"You know why I leave?" He doesn't wait for your response. "Because I can't handle this" – he gestures between you and him – "I can't handle _us. _Maybe we're not meant for each other; maybe we got things wrong! What was so different the last time I left, hmm?"

"I was fucking pregnant!"

A silence descends upon the argument.

"W-what?" Zach chokes.

You look down at your feet, but then back up at him. "You heard me."

But he's too stunned to reply.

"I had a miscarriage, so don't you dare tell me I could have handled things on my own!"

"I wasn't going to!"

"You left me Zach, and I thought we had something! But no, every single time I tried to organise us to do something together, you shut me off; you rejected me. Sure, the exchange at school was fun, but not anymore! I can't handle your inability to express emotions, or share things! I was the one person you were supposed to love and trust completely and you couldn't even tell me!" you scream at him, tears flooding your face.

He looks furious by now; like he's trying to figure out what to say to you. "You could have told me! You could have rung!"

"I'm not the one who walked out. I'm not the one who's leaving, again, now." You're not shouting any more, but the tone is just as harsh; just as cutting. "So, go. I can't deal with your crap any longer."

He shoots you one last fuming look, then strides over to the door and slams it behind himself.

Once you're sure he's gone, you curl up on the couch and cry, but then remember you have to pull it all together and go and pick up Bianca.

You finally understand what being a mother is like; sucking all your emotions up and acting strong, just so your kids don't see you weak and vulnerable, because you're their idol.

_**Crikey, has anyone watched 'I Know What You Did Last Summer'?  
**_

_**I just finished watching it :\ **_

_**Review, please, girlies (and possible guy-lies?).**_

_**Phew, there was a lot of exclamation marks in this chap, lol, I hope this cleared up their past a little.**_

_**

* * *

**_

_**~~ UPDATE: Oops, I just realised I wote 'Grant needs me at work for a couple of days!', lol I think Grant's come back from the dead, so I'm changing it to Jonas **_


	6. Pinky promises are serious

_**First off, I sincerely apologise for the clichéd crap I wrote as their fight… I honestly didn't know what to write, and that's all that came to mind. If anyone has a better idea, just review or PM me. I probably, most likely, maybe won't bite you (it all depends on whether or not I'm wearing my dentures :B)**_

_**I have WAY too many ideas floating around in my head right now…**_

_**Gah, perhaps they'll get done one day.**_

_**Onwards with the story!**_

"Just push them through the slot, Bee."

You and Bianca are at the post office, sending out invites for her birthday party, which is two days before Christmas, and then the two of you are off to find her a dress for it.

Because she's too short, you have to lift her up so that she can reach.

"Don't let the box gobble you up!" you joke, making growling noises.

She squeals, and throws the invites through the slot as if it's going to grow teeth and bite off her arm. Giggling she squirms in your arms, so you set her down and let her run back to the car.

As it's a Saturday, you were able to get the day off work to spend it with Bianca. You only hope you can keep her mind off Zach for a few hours at least, because the questions she'll have will be very awkward.

But no such luck. "Auntie Cam, where's Zachy?"

She's finally learning how to pronounce his name, much to your disappointment.

"Uh, busy, Hon. Which shop do you want to go in first?" you reply, trying to divert her attention.

"Doing whaaat?"

The whole car ride to the shopping mall is full of those sorts of questions, so once you've found a parking spot, you're extremely glad that the place will provide a distraction. And it does.

"Can we go in there? Pleeeease?"

"Not yet, Bee, we'll go later, okay?" You have to keep a firm grip on her hand so she doesn't run away.

But she's a tough one, digging her heels in so that she brings the both of you to a stop. Tears brim in her large, brown eyes and her bottom lip quivers.

"Oh, no," you mutter, knowing she's going to start screaming any second now.

And, just as you predicted, she does. Loud, attention-drawing sobs. You pull her up onto your hip and try to quieten her down by distracting her with things, but nothing works. Finally, at least an hour and a half later, she simmers down into a sulky, I'm-going-to-ignore-you mood.

You blush under the annoyed stares of other shoppers, as you try to drag Bianca into a clothes store. You never thought the day would come when you would be the dragg_er _and not the dragg_ee _whilst shopping.

"Come on, sweetie, we've got to find you a lovely new dress." But no coaxing from you softens her. Eventually, you decide to play with her mind a little. Yeah, it's a dirty tactic, but, hey, you're starting to get a little claustrophobic about being crammed in a room with so many clothes.

You walk up to a pretty, blue dress and finger the material, a thoughtful expression on your face. You then turn to Bianca, who's got that sour expression still, and ask conversationally, "Do you think Leila would like this? I was thinking we could have a combined party for the both of you, but mostly for her, because she's a couple of days older than you."

And then the whole situation changes; Bianca is startled into an expression of shock, and jealousy, and her body language becomes much more… _cooperative._

"Oh, noooo, Auntie Cam! Leila's meeean to me! Please, please, I'll do anythinggg!" she whines, clutching the hem of your shirt.

Raising an eyebrow, you reply, "Anything…?" 

Her brown eyes widen, as her clutch on your shirt tightens, and she nods solemnly. "I promise; _pinky _promise!"

Her tiny, delicate pinky slides around your own and she tightens it. Your heart softens at her touch, and you squeeze her pinky back. "Okay, pinky promises are serious, though. I'll be expecting you to keep up your side of the deal." You pace in front of her like an army lieutenant, and her posture stiffens as if she's a new recruit. "You have to obey and respect every single detail of our agreement. No wavering. No hazy lines. No whining. And _absolutely no _crying. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." Bianca even does a little, sloppy – but cute – salute.

With a grin, you grab her hand and begin to talk again. "Okay, repeat after me… I, Bianca Jean Newman…"

"I, Bianca Jean Newwwman…"

"Solemnly swear to help my Auntie Cam with the clothes shopping…" 

"Sow—som-really, really swear to help my Auntie Cam with the clothes shoppinnng…"

"And if she ever is about to faint from serious exhaustion and annoyance, I promise to drag her all the way to Nebraska, dunk her in the horses drinking water, drag her back, and then force her to find a dress…"

Bianca stares at you, a little lost, so you rephrase. "I will do everything in my power to make sure Auntie Cam doesn't do a runner…"

"I will do everyfing in my power to make sure Auntieee Cam doesn't… run…"

Nodding encouragingly, you clear your throat and pull her into another shop. "To the best of my ability, I will respect this agreement bond, and if I break it, I am subject to a fierce tickling."

She giggles, but repeats your words eventually. "To the best of my… abit—alib—bill—umm… to the best of my billy, I will wespect this ag—agree—agreement bond… and if I break it, I am su—subject to a feeece tickling!"

After another nod, you pull a skirt off the rack and show it to her.

"Nope, it doesn't match your hair." She shakes her curly-haired head.

With a little laugh, you put it back on the rack, even though it was intended for _her._

A million, bazillion shops later, you step out of yet another dressing room and spin in the pink and white dress Bianca picked out for you.

Again, she gives a small shake of her head and says, "You look like Bow Peep."

Faking hurt, you clasp your hand over your heart and laugh. "Thankyou, Little Miss Fashionista. Let's see your _ensemble _now, then!"

She leaps up from the chair and rushes past you, giving you a cheeky grin. With an exhausted sigh, you slump into the chair and rub your eyes.

When Bianca re-emerges, you practically _glow_ from the inside. "You look _beautiful, _sweetie!"

She turns to look at the mirror, and smooths down her inherited, gorgeous hair. "I'm not suuure… I think the greeeen doesn't match my eyes…"

You roll you _own _eyes and place a hand on each of her shoulders. "Bee, you look gorgeous. Anyway, it doesn't matter _that _much what you look like! It's more how nice you are to people… just not the baddies, okay?"

Almost cringing at the sheer clichéd-ness of your words, you try to ignore it, because you know it's true.

"Should I try on this one?" you ask her, after a few more moments of twirling and laughing. Bianca stops, her curls bouncing on her shoulders, and nods enthusiastically.

"Let's see you preeeetty!"

In the changing cubicle, you frown at yourself in the mirror, noticing the dark circles under your eyes, and your crazy hair. That's what a child has done to you; made you look like a drug-addict, but you know she's definitely worth it.

Shoving aside the curtain dramatically, you reveal yourself to Bianca with a theatrical flourish. Nose turned upward in mock-pompousness, you spin around, fighting the urge to laugh.

Bianca claps her hands together and giggles. "Yes, yes! Auntie Cam, you look verrry, verrry preeetty!"

You're utterly sick of shopping, so decide to go with the dress. Once it's paid for, you take Bianca's hand and ask, "Are you hungry, sweetie?"

She nods, and so the both of you head over to the food-court. "Pick something out, while I get my money."

Shuffling around in your bag, you hear Bianca whine, "There's nothinnng niiice here! Can we go somewhere elllse?"

Shaking your head, you reply, "No, we'll just stay here. Pick anything you want."

"But I don't _want _anyyything!"

Spinning on her, you give her a firm look. "Remember what we pinky promised? No whining… remember?"

Sulkily, she crosses her arms and pouts one lip.

"Fine, act like a petulant little girl, but don't expect to get anything out of it!"

Frowning, she stomps one foot and tosses her head angrily. "I wanna go home. I want my Mummyyy! I don't want yooou; you're meeean. I hate yooou."

With a huff, you grab hold of her arm and drag her towards a food stall. Whilst you're ordering two packets of chips, you let go of Bianca's arm and rustle around in your bag again. The stupid thing is far too big.

The teenage boy, who's dressed in some ridiculous compulsory company outfit, hands you your order.

Plastering a fake smile on your face, you spin around to hand Bianca her lunch, but the smile soon slips off your face.

Because she's no longer there.

_**(My spell-check is having heart-attacks every time Bianca speaks!)**_

_**Sorry I haven't updated in ages... I suspect a few of you have grown grey hairs and have your false teeth by now.**_

_**I have officially recovered from my bout of death, and am now back alive and well. And bug me if I'm not updating, because I might need that to wake up.**_

**^.- Ooh, sorry another cliffy on one of my stories!**

**I'll update sometime soon (hopefully)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Jen**


	7. Family

**Alrighty, another chapter coming your way.**

Frantically, you gaze around the busy food court, searching for that mop of brown curls, or the sound of Bianca's giggle. But there are far too many people around now, seeing as it's lunch and everyone wants food.

"Bianca!" you call, walking briskly around the tables in the centre, your heart thumping hysterically. "Bianca! Where are you?"

You're starting to attract more funny looks from families, but you don't care. All that matters is finding Bex's daughter.

"_Bianca! _I'm serious! This is no time to be playing games!"

Practically running around the place, searching under tables and behind 'SALE' stands, you continue calling for her. You can only hope that she has wandered off on her own and not been taken by somebody – whether or not they're a terrorist organisation, it doesn't matter.

"Excuse me?" someone behind you says. "Miss, are you okay? Have you lost someone?"

Tears are threatening to pour out now, but you hold them back as you stare at the middle-aged man who has a chunk of thick, way brown hair dangling over his eyes.

You're about to tell him everything, but then you realise you can't trust anyone. "Oh, never mind… I just thought… oh, it doesn't matter."

He gives you a suspicious look, but doesn't push any further. "Alright… sorry to bother you, Miss." And then, to your intense relief, he walks away.

You resume your search for Bianca, scouring bathrooms, clothes stores… anywhere you can, but she's nowhere to be found.

Cursing her under your breath, you wonder if you should call Macey or Liz. But Macey would probably congratulate for getting rid of 'the pest', and Liz would freak out so much that it would make you even more nervous and scared.

And then your mind lands on the one person you never want to see again, and you know you have to call him. Still searching, you dial his number slowly, and press it to your ear.

But as it's ringing, you chicken out. Sure, you're a spy, but you don't think you can face talking to him again. You press the red 'END' button and shove the phone back in your bag.

Sitting down on an empty bench, you let the tears flow. So far, after more than an hour of searching, you haven't found any trace of Bianca. Through your sobs, you smile a little, knowing that Bex would be so proud of her little girl for not being able to be followed. And you have to admit, that four-year-old girl is one hell of a spy-in-training.

You wish you could call Bex, but she's gone where you can't reach her. She would know what to do… where her daughter would be. Actually, she wouldn't have _lost _her in the first place!

Sobs shake your body, as you notice your phone ringing. Without looking at caller I.D., you press the little green button and shakily say, "What?"

"Well, you called first."

You close your eyes, hating how familiar his voice is. "Yeah… but I don't need you any more." Your voice is shaky, and cracks at the end.

Zach seems impatient. "You made _that _clear the other day. Is that why you're crying?"

"I'm not crying?" But another sob escapes you, giving you away.

"Right… For a top spy, you're pretty bad at lying." If he were near you, you would punch him for that. "So what do you want? And don't dare say that we should talk, because I don't _do _'talking'."

Frowning, you're not sure whether to tell him or not. "Umm… w-well… no I didn't call to 'talk'…"

He sighs into the phone, frustrated. "Then why _did _you call?"

Wiping away more tears, and sniffling loudly, you tell him, "I can't find Bianca!" And then you break down in tears _again. _

How embarrassing…

"You… you _what?"_ he exclaims, clearly shocked.

When you don't respond, he asks where you are, so you choke out your location and then hang up.

Even after fifteen minutes, you're still sobbing so you know it must be combined losing-Bianca and the-fight-with-Zach grief. You feel a warm hand rest on your back. "Hey Cam, should we keep looking?" Zach asks quietly in your ear.

You nod and wipe your face, turning away from him out of pure embarrassment. You can't believe how _babyish _you must look right now.

Once you've calmed down a bit, you tell Zach all about your trip to the shopping mall, up until all the places you've searched.

"You don't think she _left _the building, do you?" he asks, saying what you haven't dared to utter out loud.

Shrugging, you suggest miserably, "What if someone took her?"

Zach looks unusually worried, and frowns a little. "The worst thing is that we don't know if we can trust the cops…"

With a defeated sigh, you scan the place again. It's far less busy than it was before, but you still see no sign of Bianca. With a pang, you remember her last words to you: _"I hate you."_

Covering your face with your hands, you try to think of where she could possibly be, as Zach says, "I'll call some contacts at the CIA; maybe they can do something."

While he talks to someone on his phone, you decide to get your own out. Cursing yourself for bringing such an uncomfortable bag, you rifle through all the junk. As you're pulling out your phone again, a piece of paper flutters from your bag to the floor.

When you bend down and pick it up, you realise it's the letter Bex wrote to you. Just for some comfort, you read the whole thing again. Seeing Bex's familiar handwriting calms you slightly.

But your heart-rate quickens again as you read one particular sentence.

'_And remember, her weakness is her hair, and the fact that she adores little shortbread biscuits.'_

And then it clicks! That store that Bianca and you passed as you came in…

"_Can we go in there? Pleeeease?"_

"_Not yet, Bee, we'll go later, okay?"_

It was a confectionary and food shop! That sold _shortbread biscuits!_

"Zach!" you call out excitedly. "Zach, I think I know where she is!"

He looks up from his phone conversation, startled. "I gotta go, but send those helpers, okay?" he tells the person on the other end before hanging up.

"Where is she?" he asks, his eyes wide.

You grab his forearm and drag him all the way back to the part of the shopping mall where you came in, without bothering to explain.

About one hundred metres away from the store, you see that familiar bunch of curly brown hair and relief floods you. "Bianca!" you call out, and she turns around.

You love the grin she has on her face as she points towards a huge, multi-coloured lollipop. "Looook, Auntie Cam! Can I get that?"

But just as you're about to reach her, it all goes wrong again. Someone dressed in a dark trench-coat comes out of nowhere and sweeps Bianca up into his arms, his large hat covering his identity.

"Bianca!" you scream, sprinting towards her, but it's too late. The man takes off with the little girl firmly in his grasp.

You hear her shrieking, which only makes you run faster, and you know that Zach is right behind you. "Go left! Cut him off! I'll follow!" you order to him, and he nods and follows your instructions.

Pushing past other shoppers, who look on in astonishment, you keep your eyes trained on the dark-clothed man. You repress a smile of happiness because you know Bianca is struggling and kicking and generally making it as hard for him as she possibly can.

Just as you're about to lose sight of him, someone jumps out of the shadows and knocks you down. "No! Bianca!" you scream, desperately trying to get away from your attacker, but they hold you tighter.

You land a blow to the side of their neck, but they don't release you. They have you in a choke hold which is restricting air from flowing to your lungs. With all your might, you kick upwards at the attacker and catch their stomach with your knee.

Satisfied at hearing a loud "Oof!" from them, you try to run, but they grab your ankle, causing you to trip and fall on your face.

Blood spurts from your nose, but you ignore it and block the blows now coming from the attacker. They catch the side of your body with a powerful kick, and you swear you hear a few ribs break.

Blinded by pain and blood, you tackle them back to the ground and take a chop at their throat again, but they don't let you go.

Screaming erupts from all the civilians around you, and you feel as if you're about to black out. You force the attacker's arms onto the ground, so they can't move, and you hold them there. Just when you think you can't hold on any longer, someone comes to your rescue.

It's the man from earlier. The one who asked if you were okay. He gives you a quick grimace, and takes over your position. Whipping out some handcuffs from somewhere, he locks them on the attacker's hands.

"Thankyou!" you call back at him, already sprinting off in the direction that Bianca and her kidnapper went.

There's another scene up ahead, and more relief courses through you as you see that Zach's backup has arrived, and has now apprehended the kidnapper.

You run towards Zach, blood still pouring from your nose, and fling your arms around his neck. Hugging him tightly, you whisper in his ear, "I'm so sorry! I… I shouldn't have turned my back! And I'm sorry I didn't tell you about… before."

He hugs you back, equally as firmly.

Then you remember. "Where's Bianca?" You pull back from Zach and scan the scene, seeing no sign of her.

But then a gentle tugging on your shirt causes you to look down. Those eyes – still as gorgeous as ever – are staring up at you with a mixture of apology and love.

"Bianca!" You lift her up and hug her tightly, never wanting to let go.

She's become part of your life now, and you wouldn't change anything.

You release slightly her when she says quietly, "Auntie Cam? You're getting blood on my shirrrrt!"

Laughing, Zach hugs the both of you, saying, "Bianca-Sandwich!"

You get lost in a world of happiness.

**Next chapter will be the last… I'm kind of sad about that. Is that normal? **

**I like this story. Maybe not how I wrote it, but the whole idea of it. **

**If you like it, please review and tell me! Or if you hate it, ditto!**

**~Jen**


	8. Whatever the future brings

**Wow… I'm going to miss writing this story. **

**I'll miss little Bianca. I'll miss all your reviews. I'll miss writing something happy for once.**

***sigh* I'm far too sentimental…**

**On with the very last chapter!**

Still in your pyjama singlet and short shorts, you flip the bacon, smiling to yourself and thinking over all that has happened in the last few months.

Only a few days ago, Zach sold his apartment and moved into your own. He now sleeps in your bedroom instead of on the couch.

You realised Bianca needed a bedroom of her own, so you cleared out your small office for her and moved her bed into there.

But both you and Zach know the place isn't right for raising a child, so you made a joint decision to sell it and buy a house somewhere else, with more room.

And, finally, your smile widens as you look at that beautiful ring on your left hand which has only graced your finger for two days. And in those two days, you've hardly taken it off.

Zach asked you when Bianca was at a friend's house for the night, whilst the two of you were out walking in a park nearby. You practically knocked him over with a hug after you'd said yes.

As pure happiness floods you, you feel warm arms wrap around you waist and a voice in your ear whispers, "Good morning, Gallagher Girl."

You're glad you and Zach have sorted out all your troubles. He promised never to run away again, and you promised him you'd have no secrets from him.

Turning around to face him, you whisper back, "Morning, Blackthorne Boy."

He grins at you and pulls you into a deep kiss. You tighten the hug, pulling your bodies closer, but break away when a small voice squeals, "Eeewie!"

You turn your head to see Bianca standing in the kitchen doorway, covering her teddy's eyes with its paws and squeezing her own shut tightly.

With a laugh, you push a shirtless Zach away and walk over to her. "Morning, Bee."

She jumps into your arms and cuddles into your neck, her teddy squished between the two of you. "Guess what today is!" she exclaims into your neck.

Pretending to think, you ask, "I don't know… Do you know, Zach?"

He plays along and strokes an imaginary beard. "Hmm, no… I thought there might be something, but I'm not so sure anymore!"

"It's my birthdayyy!" cries Bianca, laughing loudly.

"Oh, that's right!" Zach laughs as well. "Good morning, Birthday Girl!"

He takes her from your arms and, in one swift motion, puts her onto his shoulders. "_Brrrrmmm, _this is Captain Awesome speaking, please fasten your seatbelts as we may be experiencing some slight turbulence. Hold on tight! If you have any questions, please ask your flight attendant, Hostess Crazy-Hair!"

And then he circles around the kitchen, making 'plane noises.'

As Bianca giggles, you hold an imaginary walkie-talkie up to your mouth and fake static. "Captain Awesome? This is Hostess Crazy-Hair; you need to land immediately as Birthday Girl has an important day ahead of her, and needs to fill up on breakfast! Over!"

Zach changes direction and plonks Bianca into her seat at the table, and then takes his own. They laugh together as he pours her a glass of juice. "Would the lady like her eggs scrambled or fried?"

Putting a finger on her chin, Bianca thinks for a moment. "Scrambled, pleeease!"

You give a salute and crack an egg into a bowl, add water and then whisk it together with a fork. "So," you say as you pour the egg into the frying pan, "are you excited, Bee? We'll go to Macey's at about twelve, okay?"

She nods enthusiastically and takes a sip of her juice, but it spills on her purple, fairy pyjamas. Zach grabs a paper napkin and dabs at the juice, and you can't help but think how adorable the two are.

He notices you staring and looks up, grinning. "I know I'm irresistibly handsome, but aren't those eggs burning?"

"Oh, sh—I mean, Oopsie daisies!"

A few minutes later, the three of you sit together, chewing away at the burnt eggs and bacon, with Bianca wearing a plastic tiara Zach bought for her a few days ago.

Only he didn't realise she bought _him _one, too, so he's wearing one as well.

"Hey, Bee, what's the difference between roast beef and pea soup?" he asks, looking away from the newspaper.

She frowns and replies, "Whaaat?"

Grinning, he says, "You can roast beef but you can't pee soup!"

It takes her several moments, but eventually she gets it and collapses into fits of giggles.

You shoot Zach an exasperated look, but he only smirks back at you.

"And what's brown and sticky?"

"Whaaat?"

"A stick!"

She cuddles her teddy closer and giggles again.

"And what's pink and fluffy?"

"Ooh, what?" she asks excitedly.

"Pink fluff!"

Rolling your eyes, your cheeks are beginning to hurt from all the smiling you're doing this morning. "Hey, Zach, as much as I'm enjoying your dad-jokes, we have girly business to attend to."

He presses a hand over his heart and says, "I don't tell dad-jokes!"

With a snort, you reply, "Oh, yes you do!"

Bianca grabs your hand and looks at you with big, brown eyes. "Can we go get changed now?"

You nod. "Okay, and then you can open your presents from us."

She hugs Zach quickly and then drags you into your room.

It's changed quite a lot since the whole Bianca-thing began. Photos of the three of you cover the top of the dresser, and the walls are a much brighter purple. You smile as you remember the day the three of you painted them.

"Hey, Bianca, arms up!" She obeys and lifts her arms above her head, so you can slip the delicate, green dress over her.

The bottom is lined with pretty, white lace, and the sleeves are puffy, which Bianca seems to like.

She does a twirl, moving her arms like she's a ballerina. "You look beautiful, Bee."

The sight of her makes you fill with this intense pride.

"Now it's yooour turn!" she exclaims, and you sigh.

You quickly take off your pyjamas and slide into the dark-blue dress. It's kind of sparkly, but not so much that you look like you've rolled in glitter.

Strangely enough, you actually look alright in a dress. After applying lip gloss and being sprayed with perfume by Bianca, you both stand in front of the mirror.

When you bend down to her height, she smiles and says, "I like your lip gloss. I wish _I _could wear lip gloss…"

Then she presses one finger to your lips, and then presses the same finger to her own.

"Maybe one day, Bee."

It kind of saddens you to think of her growing up into a teenager and not wanting to be part of your life any more. But you're shaken out of your sentimentality by Zach sticking his head around the doorway, wearing a white shirt and a pair of pants.

"You ladies done, yet? I'm pretty sure next Christmas has been and gone already," he jokes.

Bianca crosses her arms at him. "_No, _girls need more time than stupid _boys."_

Zach looks at you and says, "She's gonna give the guys a hard time when she gets older."

He walks into the room and tackles her into a hug. "So, can I have the biggest slice of cake?"

Shaking her head, Bianca replies, "No! I'm saving a big bit for Charlie!"

With one eyebrow raised, Zach remarks, "Charlie, eh? Who's Charlie?"

You know by the way her cute cheeks turn a light pink that she likes this _Charlie. _And you hold back a smile at what Grant would say about him.

"Charlie's my friend!"

Later, in the car heading towards Macey's house, Zach asks, "So why has McHenry sacrificed her house to accommodate a five-year-old's birthday party?"

Shrugging, you say, "I think she warmed up to Bianca when she realised how much she likes shopping… Let's just hope Macey doesn't rip out any of the little kids' hair."

"Yeah, finger's crossed."

When you reach her house, Bianca frowns at the place, not exactly sure why you're there, so you grab her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

"Shall we go in, ladies?" asks Zach, gesturing towards the house.

Bianca nods and follows Zach to the front door. She presses the doorbell way more times than necessary, but neither of you stops her.

Eventually Macey answers, wearing an apron, and flour smeared across one perfect cheekbone. "Hey, Cammie! Come in."

Zach snorts. "What am I? Chopped liver?"

Macey frowns at him. "Actually, I don't think even my axolotl would eat you, Goode. Just because Cammie likes you, doesn't mean that I have to."

Rolling his eyes, he pushes past Macey as you give her a look.

"Can't you two just get along?"

"Nope."

And then it's your turn to roll your eyes. "Can we just focus on Bianca? No fighting today? Or never?"

Macey crouches down to Bianca's height and places a hand on her shoulder. "Sure. Hey, Bianca, are any cute guys coming?"

You don't think you can stand the rest of their conversation, so you follow Zach. You find him in Macey's kitchen, chewing on a lolly snake.

He gives you a wink, and your heart gives a flutter. "So, Cam, do I need to kill this Charlie guy?"

Zach pulls you close to him, as you reply, "Not yet. Maybe when she gets older."

"Mmkay."

You rest your head on his chest and murmur, "You're cute when you're protective."

Laughing, he says, "And you're just cute, full stop."

Macey walks in on the two of you and frowns. "I thought this day is about Bianca?"

Detaching yourself from Zach, you tell her, "It is, as of right now. When are the guests coming?"

As if on cue, the doorbell rings and Macey smiles. "I think they're here!"

Down the hall, you hear Bianca open the door and squeal, _"Charlie!"_

Later, after her party, you finish packing up and thank Macey for letting her house play host to seven crazy children of spies. When Macey waves your thanks away, you pull her into a hug and whisper, "Bex would really have appreciated it."

"Thanks, Cam," she whispers back sadly. "You're going to make me cry …"

Before either of you have the chance to burst out into tears, Zach bundles you and Bianca into the car. You wave goodbye to Macey and crawl across into the driver's seat.

"Uhh, what are you doing?" asks Zach, as he opens the driver's side door.

You look up at him. "I'm taking us someplace special."

With a slightly confused look on his face, he doesn't argue, but sits in the passenger seat.

You drive for about fifteen minutes before arriving at the place.

A look of sad comprehension dawns on Zach's face, as he sees the sign.

'_Cemetery'_

_~The deceased are only truly gone when we forget them~_

He places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly. You take a quick glance back at Bianca, but she hasn't noticed anything, yet.

You get out of the car and unbuckle her, and then walk slowly, with her hand in yours, towards the graves of your dear friends.

Zach slips an arm around your shoulders as you approach the new, grey headstones.

The three of you stop at the foot of the graves.

_Here lie Rebecca 'Bex' and Grant Newman, taken from this world far too early._

_These beloved friends and parents will be sorely missed._

_Rest In Peace._

Bianca kneels down and touches the words, a strange expression on her face. "Mummy? Daddy?"

You kneel next to her and give her a one-armed hug.

"I miss Mummy and Daddy."

"Hey, Bianca, they love you and they'll always be watching over you."

She nods and squeezes out a few tears, and you wonder how on earth she knows what's happened to them. But, then again, she's a perceptive girl.

Zach kneels the other side of her and strokes her hair. "Bee, you still have us. We won't ever leave you, okay?"

It's a difficult promise to make what with our profession, but you have no doubt Zach and you will try your hardest to keep it.

"We promise."

She pulls the both of you into a tight hug, and whispers, "I love you, Zachy and Cam."

Yours and Zach's eyes lock as you reply, "I love you, too."

And you know that's meant for both of them, whatever happens, whatever the future brings, you'll love them both.

Because you're family.

**It really is over…**

**Well, I sincerely hoped you've enjoyed this story. So much for making it a three-shot!**

**Keep smiling, and keep happy.**

**~Jen ;)**


End file.
